Did you ever read a work of fiction and thought "Ah, how much I'd like for it to be real/possible" or "I wish that could happen to me"? I certainly did, especially when it came to reincarnation novels and manga, because I hated my boring life and I really liked fantasy stories with magic and monsters.
Not that my life was a bad one. My parents were loving and caring, I wasn't the top of my class, but I had passing grades, and I had a part-time job as tourist guide with flexible time-tables and a good pay (and the eventual, always appreciated, tips from the gentler tourists). There were only three problems: I was desperately single, I had no friends and I was stuck into the monotony that my life was steadily becoming.
Like clockwork, my day started with me waking at 7:00 a.m., going to the university at 8:00 a.m., listening to lessons until 14:00, going back to home to eat a quick lunch and then going to work from 16:00 to 20:00, at which point I had my dinner followed by some studying and reviewing notes, for then passing the rest of the night on the computer and relaxing reading the new manga and novel releases until the strike of midnight, where I would gone to bed until the next morning. Wash, rinse and repeat from Monday to Friday and you get my usual week. Very exciting, right? I lived alone in a cheap, little apartment of three rooms near my university for convenience, owned by one of my relatives and given to me as present for my eighteenth birthday and my graduation from high school, a symbol for my adulthood and independence
Everything was slowly descending into a blur, time had almost lost every meaning to me, if not only to differentiate my lessons and the new releases. The positive thing about this monotony was that it made easier to see details and variations of the world around you. Even little things, like when the neighbour forgot to water the flowers on her window, or the time when the postman was a few minutes late because he hurt his right hand and was having difficulties inserting the mail in the mailboxes. This kind of situations were very evident to me, even if I noticed them with a side glance, with borderline OCD levels.
It was thanks to this perception of out-of-place situations that I saw it: a little girl, the daughter of one family in the neighbourhood, crossing the road behind a ball, completely oblivious of the truck incoming on her.
You have to know that I always had a soft spot for children. When I lived in my home-town, I was the first choice as babysitter for all my acquaintances and relatives with children, because I could keep them assured that no harm could happen on their little ones on my watch, and I had a well developed paternal instinct.
And so, it was with no surprise that I found myself dashing towards that girl, throwing away all my self-preservation, with only one goal in mind: to save her!
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
I got to the girl and I tackled her out of the truck's way, wrapping myself around her body and turning to shield her from the rough asphalt, thanking the heaven for wearing a long-sleeved jacket that morning.
We made it to the other side of the road. The girl was unharmed, I less so. In my haste to grant more protection to the girl, I miscalculated my tackle's trajectory, knocking the back of my head on the border of the pavement, a hard knock. Feeling my consciousness flowing away along with my blood, I gathered my strength to look the child in her scared, shocked face, and say:
“... You alright?”
“... Uh-huh.”
She nodded frantically in my chest. I let loose a breath of relief at that, resting my head on the ground with a smile. The adrenaline being the only thing that kept me awake and lucid, despite the sharp pain and the blood loss.
“... That's... good... Next time... remember to... watch both sides... of the road, before... you... cross... it. Clear?”
“... Yes.”
“Good... child...”
I patted her head, while voices were gathering around us, getting more closer. Somebody screamed, and others shouted to call for an ambulance, while the mother of the girl took her from my arms to hug her (and keeping her from seeing my state), and I felt hands lifting my head and pressing something on the gash on it, trying to stop the blood.
But it was useless... I knew it was useless, because I couldn't feel my body anymore, just coldness, my vision kept to become darker and darker and the voices softer and softer, until it was nothing than darkness and silence.
My last thought in that moment, before even my consciousness disappeared, was just:
'Heh, what a cliché. Life really imitates fiction...'
In the complete darkness where I was submerged, a sound resonated strong and clear, and something appeared before my eyes.
Ding
You've been resurrected